


Stack the Deck

by FrostKitten



Category: Cardcaptor Sakura, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Author loves to chat in the Comments, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble Scenes, Families of Choice, Flames Treated as Magic, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Present Tense, Sawada Iemitsu's A+ Parenting, Sawada Nana's A+ Parenting, Slowburn R27, Swearing, Tags Are Fun, Tags May Change, Timoteo's A+ Parenting, Tsuna is Not Dame, Unconventional Uses for Clow Cards, Unconventional Uses for Dying Will Flames, bullying aftermath, more like FUB-lite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 03:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10585461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostKitten/pseuds/FrostKitten
Summary: Where Tsuna gets The Clow book instead of Sakura and everything changes because of it.Alternatively: Where I screw with canon and will not apologize in the slightest.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Please see the end of the chapter for warnings. I didn't want to post a huge A/N at the top. Also, I'm not kidding on the summary.
> 
> Summary: Where Tsuna gets The Clow book instead of Sakura and everything changes because of it.
> 
> Alternatively: Where I fuck with canon and will not apologize in the slightest.
> 
> Also, if you're not familiar with KHR canon: Dame translates into "no good." I'm not going to use very much Japanese, mostly honorifics, but "Dame" is recurring in KHR, so I wanted to give a translation. Tsuna's nickname is Dame-Tsuna or "No Good" Tsuna.

He stands on Namimori Middle School’s roof, at the highest point, over the school entrance. The sky is clear, and a bright, full moon lights up the entire grounds. He grips a staff tightly with both hands, holding it in front of him crosswise, guarding against something.

 _Something is coming, something is on it’s way_ , the Wind whispers. _Be on guard…_

Something settles on his left shoulder. Warm, living, breathing—he can feel the puff of its breath on his ear, giving him gooseflesh, though he can’t hear it. He relaxes slightly, his shoulders becoming less rigid. On his right, standing just behind him in his shadow, is another warm presence. A Guard at his back and a Guide on his shoulder, like two Suns, fraternal twins.

A gust of wind blasts them, and he is surrounded by cards and feathers in the middle of a whirlwind.

The Sun on his shoulder grabs his shirt with paws and teeth. The Sun in his shadow presses closer. The Wind hisses at them.

The Guide Sun is ripped away first, taking a strip of his shirt with it. He sees a glimpse of something small, yellow, and winged disappearing into the sky, trailing a strip of orange fabric. He opens his mouth, tries to yell, tries to reach out and grab his Sun, and he’s frozen in place, soundless.

Voiceless.

The Guard Sun is next. The Wind grabs it, swings it away from him, leaving his back cold and unprotected. He tries to scream and turn and _can’t move_ and his voice sounds tinny and far away.

He’s _alone_. Alone in the center of a whirlwind of cards and feathers. His chest constricts. Alone in a whirlwind that’s _closing in_ and it’s so hard to breathe…!

 _Help_ , he tries to say. His mouth opens, his lips form the words, and no sound comes out. He whimpers, feels the vibration of the sound, and hears nothing.

 _There is no help_ , the Wind croons in his ear. _You must stand alone in this_. It sounds almost…almost…

…apologetic.

His vision is blurry. It didn’t apologize to him, but it sounded sorry, and that’s a good deal more than he’s gotten from any of his own classmates.

But how is he going to do this? Alone?

_Be strong, Tsuna…_

But how could he be? He’s alone, all alone, how can he continue…?

_Draw on us…_

_Who are you?_ he mouths.

Shadows appear one by one, just outside the whirlwind. And though the wind continues to batter him, the cards become still, hanging in the air. They glow in all different colors, all different shades of the rainbow, and threads of their light snap out and connect to him, his chest.

His heart.

_These threads, these connections, will build over time. Draw on us in your darkest moments, and we will help carry the burden._

“But who are you?!” His scream is barely a whisper, barely makes it to his own ears.

 _You will know us, in time._ The lights flicker and die. The cards disappear in small flashes of light. The shadows fade.

“Wait!”

_In time…_

*******

* * *

 

*******

Sawada Tsunayoshi’s eyes snap open. He stares at the ceiling, his heart pounding in his chest, and tries to remember to breathe. Why does he need that reminder? Right. Stupid dream.

After a few minutes, his shoulders are starting to relax again. His heart rate is slowing, and he lets his eyes drift back closed. What a dream…

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

He jumps, eyes flying open again, shoulders snapping tight. His head rolls over to glare at the source of the offending noise.

A small round digital clock with 07:00 AM blinking across the display.

He smacks the top of the alarm, cutting off the blaring alarm, and drags himself upright. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and looks down at his blankets.

The twisted length of fabric has a few tiny white feathers sticking to it.

He picks them off with a frown. He doesn’t have any pillows or comforters that use feathers, not even a mattress topper. Then he shrugs and swings his legs out of bed. He probably tracked them in when he came home from school yesterday.

Ten minutes later he’s leaving his room, fully dressed in his school uniform: dark grey slacks, a white dress shirt, and a dark grey sweater vest finished with a red tie.

*******

* * *

 

*******

The first day at Namimori Middle School is everything he has come to expect and yet worse than anything he’s faced yet.

It’s the beginning of the school year. The beginning of seventh grade. He’s barely scraped into it—they almost made him repeat sixth grade, but he pulled it off. He thought that might make his classmates a little more accepting of him. That they might maybe back off a little, give him some breathing room.

That lasts all of two seconds into homeroom.

Seating’s assigned alphabetically, and the chart is taped to the blackboard at the front of the room. He drops into his seat in the middle of the room and shoves his bag under his desk so it isn’t in the way, and only then do his eyes drop to his desk.

To what’s written on his desk in bold, black permanent marker.

DAME-TSUNA.

And he had left the rubbing alcohol at home. Damn.

*******

* * *

 

*******

And when he thinks it can’t get worse, it does. Because he has P.E.

To be honest, he really had planned to try. He knows he’s not particularly athletic, but he’s gotten better. He spent break with Sakura, she taught him how to skate and he’s actually pretty good at it. He trips less. He thought that would transfer over to the rest of his life.

But as they split off into teams for a game of basketball, he finds his attention drifting. He hangs out near the sidelines, just inside the court but out of the way of the rest of the players.

He remembers his dream in flashes. Standing on the school roof. The wind around him. Two warm, protective presences that he couldn’t help but compare to the sun itself.

Then he snorts, his head dropping. What a fantasy. The only accurate thing was that he has to stand alone—

WHAP!

He stumbles and trips over his feet and hits the ground on his side. He only just manages to keep his head from hitting the lacquered wood of the gym floor.

“Come _on_ , Dame-Tsuna!” The team captain jogs over, scowl fixed on his face, as the opposing team laughs. They don’t even bother to hide it. “I said ‘heads up,’ that means pay attention!”

“S-sorry,” Tsuna mutters, sitting up slowly. His vision is swimming and his stomach rolls in response. Something wet drips onto his lips and he wipes it away. The back of his hand comes away red and he grimaces. He stumbles to his feet—his classmates don’t offer a hand up, and he doesn’t ask for one—and over to the wall. He can probably make it to the nurse’s office if he can stay next to a wall. He hobbles toward the door, half-leaning on the cool plaster as he goes.

“Sawada,” the coach bellows. Tsuna’s headache spikes and he winces. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“N-nurse’s office,” he calls back. He turns around, sure to keep one hand on the wall, and lets the coach see his nosebleed. The coach purses his lips and gives a sharp nod; Tsuna guesses a nosebleed would be too much to ignore.

Instead of making his way to the school office, where the nurse’s office is, Tsuna ducks into the locker room, grabs his things, and stumbles out into the hallway. He gives a small sigh of relief that it’s clear—most of the students are in class, and the ones that are skipping aren’t stupid enough to hang around the school. So he’s able to make it to the closest bathroom without being harassed by bullies or the Disciplinary Committee, for once.

He drops his bag on the counter and carefully feels his nose with his fingertips, trying to tell if it’s broken or not. It isn’t—he’s had a broken nose a couple times before, so he knows it isn’t now—just sore and bleeding. He cleans the blood and snot off his face, trying not to gag. The basketball had hit him on the cheek, so his nose is mostly fine, but he’s going to have some spectacular bruising by tomorrow.

“Damn,” he sighs at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He twists a bit of paper towel and stuffs it into his nose to keep it from leaking blood. He had hoped this year would be better than last, but this is not a promising start!

And he has a lunch period and two more classes before the final bell.

He winces at that thought. Those classes are _not_ going to be fun or interesting. If these last classes are any indication, it’s going to be torture. He doesn’t _want_ to deal with that. A soft voice in the back of his head whispers that things won’t change if he doesn’t stand up and try, but try what? What hasn’t he already done? He’s not popular, he’s not athletic, he’s not smart—he knows this. He’s reminded every. Damn. Day. Of these facts. He’s tried being nice and polite, tried Gods only knew how many clubs to see what he would be good at, studied his ass off just to scrape up average grades. What else can he try?

No. It’s better to do what he learned last year. He tried, he failed, so he’s going home.

*******

* * *

 

*******

Tsuna’s mother is busy in the kitchen and doesn’t even notice him walking in. He’s grateful for her obliviousness, just this once, as he sets his sneakers down quietly at the entryway and goes upstairs, automatically stepping over the squeaky stair on his way up. In his room, he tosses his backpack on the bed, quickly followed by his sweater vest, and flops onto the floor.

He really is no good. He couldn’t even make it through his first day of school!

He has homework from the classes he managed to attend, he’ll have to grab the homework for the classes he missed, he really should get started so he doesn’t fall behind like he did last year…

Screw it. What’s the point? He’s tried this all before, he’s not insane enough to think it’ll work now. He rolls over onto his stomach, grabs a manga at random from his stash under his bed, and glances at the cover.

 _King of Thorns_. Blood, gore, horror. Suitably distracting. He can bury himself in someone else’s misery for a while with this. He flips to the first page. His mother wouldn’t like it if she saw him reading it, but what she doesn’t know…

“Tsuna!”

He shoves the manga back under his bed and grabs a much less offending one, not even bothering to read the title as he flips to somewhere in the middle of the volume. His door opens a heartbeat later, and a woman with dark brown hair pokes her head in.

“Mom,” he whines from his place on the floor, “don’t come bursting into my room!”

She frowns at him. “Tsuna, I just got a call from the school about you leaving early. Why did you leave?” He scowls and doesn’t answer; they’ve been through this before, and all she ever tells him is that he shouldn’t leave early, that he should try to make friends and be nice and study harder and…and…he clenches his jaw. She sighs. “Look, I’m not asking for perfection here, or for you to get into the top high school or college. I just want you to be happy with the life you’re living, and you _aren’t_. So why do you keep doing this?”

He shrugs helplessly because really, what else can he do? He doesn’t have any other answer from what he’s told her before!

She smiles sweetly at him, the kind of smile he lives for because while she smiles most of the time, this one is genuine. This is the smile that says “I’m going to try for you,” instead of the normal “I’m floating along” and he loves it.

It also means she’s planning something, and that’s terrifying.

“Well, then,” she all but sings. “Maybe you’ll like my surprise a bit more. It should help~” She pulls out a folded sheet of paper and hands it to him. “I got you a home tutor!”  
He takes the paper and feels numb because what. The actual. Hell? “Will make your child the next leader of their generation, any subject, doesn’t matter,” he reads out.

“Yeah, isn’t it great?” Her smile is wide and sweet and genuine. “I called him already, he’ll be here later this afternoon!”

“Mom,” he starts. He doesn’t want to be the one to break this to her. “Mom, this is probably a scam!” No one can claim to tutor in any subject, tutors had specialties, even if they were entirely genius.

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’ll be fine!”

Downstairs, there’s a knock on the door.

“That’s probably him now.” His mother backs out of his room, still smiling.

He flops back down with a groan. All he wants to do is lay there, ignore the world, and drown himself in manga. He does not want to get up, nope, not at all.

Except there’s a scam artist downstairs that he has to save his mother from, so he does.

*******

* * *

 

*******

Reborn has been watching the Sawada household for the last week, since touching down in Japan. So far, the picture his report had painted of his tar- _student_ had not matched up to what he saw when he watched the boy during his last few days of break.

Except today it had, in a way that would have been heartbreaking to anyone else. Not that he didn’t feel bad, because he did, but Reborn didn’t get to the top of his field by letting his emotions run roughshod over him, and with his brand of tor- _tutoring_ , his new student would hopefully no longer have to deal with bullies and bad grades.

But still. It’s one thing to see his potential student skating with his “younger sister”—who was not mentioned in Iemitsu’s report at all, damn the man—and having a good time, even if his only two friends were the next door neighbors, one older than him and one younger.

It’s another thing to see Tsunayoshi during his first day of school, his desk already vandalized, tripping over _thin air_ in a way the kid hadn’t when he was on skates, and with students and teachers alike calling him Dame-Tsuna. Which Reborn could understand from the kids—they’re kids, and kids are cruel, and clearly their parents weren’t teaching them respect very well when they got away with calling someone “no good.”

But the teachers?

It’s _appalling_.

These are civilians, not mafiosi or ex-assassins.

Most of Reborn’s students have been Mafia brats, usually Skies, who had been raised to believe the world revolved around them and that they could do no wrong. He had occasionally used nicknames like that to deflate their egos. They wouldn’t listen to him otherwise, because for all his titles—Sun Arcobaleno, World’s Greatest Hitman, Mafia Home Tutor—to them, they were Skies and he was _just a Sun_. One of his more unruly students had actually _told_ him that.

(And they wonder why he doesn’t bond to any of them.)

From what he has seen so far, though, he’s going to have the opposite problem with Sawada Tsunayoshi. The kid’s ego doesn’t need deflating. Tsunayoshi needs _more_ confidence, not less!

“They should have called Fon,” he mutters as he marches up the walkway to the front door. Reborn is _not_ a nice person—he can’t afford to be, can’t afford any weakness—but at least Fon would have the patience to help this kid. Reborn’s not sure if he can manage it.

But Nono asked him, and Reborn is allied to the Vongola, so he’s obligated to _try_. He will _try_ to keep his patience and help this kid, _try_ to turn this kid into Boss material. It’s not like he can’t call Fon in later.

So he takes a breath and knocks on the door.

Thirty seconds later the door opens to a brunette with an innocent smile that he recognizes from his intelligence report as Sawada Nana.

“Ciaossu,” he says brightly, cringing at the squeaky tone of his voice. Every time he says something, there’s that stupid squeak…

Nana’s eyes drop down and for a second she looks almost surprised. Then she smiles again, and he’s going to hate this part even more, he knows it. “Hi, sweetheart,” she croons. He masterfully keeps from twitching. “Are you lost?”

“No,” he says cheerfully. He feels Leon shift on the brim of his fedora. “I’m Reborn, the home tutor. You must be Sawada Nana-san?”

“Oh, you can call me Mama, everyone does,” she says breezily. She doesn’t even question that he’s actually a tutor, and that puts him on guard. _No one_ is that accepting. She steps aside. “Please come in!”

He follows along, dragging in his briefcase after him. She leads him to the kitchen and he sits on the edge of the table while she moves through kitchen, grabbing things for tea. A couple minutes later, they’re joined by his new student.

He hears the boy’s footsteps on the stairs, soft and light until about halfway down. And then, about halfway, there’s a yelp and a crash. He suppresses a snort at the less-than-graceful pile of limbs at the bottom of the stairs. The boy stands and brushes himself off, giving Reborn his first close-up look.

The boy is wearing part of Namimori Middle School’s uniform, the dress shirt and slacks specifically. No tie, no vest—probably upstairs. The kid’s face is what surprises him, though, because even after a week of investigating and the pictures he has in his intel report, he’s still not prepared.

The reddish-brown, spiky hair that is a perfect cross between Iemitsu’s blond and Nana’s deeper brown. The round face—not round like he’s overweight, because the kid isn’t, if anything he’s just _barely_ this side of too thin, like he’s got a fast metabolism—that’s like Nana’s, but with chocolate brown eyes exactly like Iemitsu’s. A perfect cross between his parents, though his body type and facial structure lean more towards Nana’s influence, which is unusual for a boy.

He’s also a dead ringer for Giotto, Vongola Primo. Like seeing a thirteen year old version of Vongola Primo in a modern setting. Mio dios.

And then the kid’s face goes from embarrassed but open to closed and suspicious so fast it makes his head spin.

*******

* * *

 

*******

Crashing down the stairs is not the way Tsuna _wants_ to make his entrance—he had wanted to sneak down the stairs and get a look at the scam artist before confronting them—but nevertheless, it’s the entrance he gets.

He stands carefully, brushes the dirt off his uniform shirt, and looks over—and freezes.

He had heard his mother at the door from the top of the stairs. He had heard the person at the door—their voice squeaky and high pitched enough to make telling the gender difficult—saying that they were the home tutor his mom had hired. He had expected to see someone young at the kitchen table, had expected someone hard up and desperate for cash, or maybe a college student.

Sitting on the edge of the table, briefcase at his side and dressed in a suit and fedora with an orange hat band, is an infant.

The cherubic face looks over at him when he hits the ground, and Tsuna thinks, for one impossible moment, the infant’s face is disdainful. And then the look is gone.

There’s something _wrong_ with this kid, though.

He’s not going to question why a parent would dress the kid like that, because he’s seen crap like that done to poor, unsuspecting kids in the name of “cute” before. But the infant has a briefcase almost as big as him on the table and a _glass_ yellow pacifier, and there’s something about his eyes…

The boy looks barely a year old, but his eyes, wide as they are, look like they’ve seen years of life. Not all of those years were good, not even most of them.  
It puts Tsuna’s guard up.

“S-sorry, but who’s the kid?” he asks, trying to smile. It feels stiff and fake, but his mom doesn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, this is Reborn,” she says happily. She brings over a tray with a tea pot and cups. “He’s the home tutor.”

He looks at her. “…what?”

The kid—Reborn--pops open his briefcase and pulls out a file. “My credentials,” he says brightly. Nana takes it as she sits down. “I got here three hours early, but I’ll do the evaluation now as a service to you.”

“Um, evaluation…?”

“Oh, this is great! Look, Tsuna, he can help you with all your classes!” His mom shoves the file at him. He takes it hastily, still standing, and reads through the list of subjects the kid can supposedly teach.

It’s an impressive resume.

“Look, Mom,” he sighs, putting the file on the table.

“Is there somewhere quiet I can do the evaluation, Mama?” Reborn chirps. “I want to get started on making his schedule…”

“Sure! You guys can go up to Tsuna’s room, I’m sure he won’t mind.” She gives Tsuna a bright, happy smile, and how can he refuse that?

So he sighs. “This way,” he mutters.

Upstairs in his room, Tsuna doesn’t feel any better. It’s quiet, except for the soft clank of pots and pans downstairs. His mom is probably already getting started on dinner.  
Reborn jumps up onto Tsuna’s bed and drops the briefcase onto the comforter. “Well,” the infant says briskly, “let’s get started.” He pulls out another file and drops it onto the bed. “I’ll start with why I’m here.”

“You’re here to tutor me, I thought,” Tsuna says lightly. Ominous start.

“Of course!” Reborn chirps. “I’m just here to tutor you in something very specific. Your father sent me, actually.”

“That’s a new one,” he mutters.

“He sent me, along with his employer, to make you into a mafia boss.”

“Bullshit,” Tsuna blurts out, eyes wide.

*******

* * *

 

*******

“Tsuna! There’s a package for you!”

The young teen stares at the file, not responding to Nana’s call. Reborn watches his new student warily. He hasn’t broken the kid already, has he?

“Tsuna!”

Maybe telling the kid about the Vongola heirs this soon wasn’t such a good idea. He’s staring at the file like it’s going to bite him. Reborn’s glad now that he thought to remove the pictures Iemitsu included.

The kid’s still not responding, and that’s the pared down version of the report. Reborn, knowing his pupil would be a civilian, had actually gone through and redacted a lot of the worse details, so if this was Tsuna’s response to not-so-bad (by mafia standards, at least), how would he react to the really bad stuff?

“Tsuna!” There’s an edge of exasperation to Nana’s voice now, and Reborn kicks Tsunayoshi’s knee to get the teen’s attention.

The kid doesn’t even blink.

“Dammit,” Reborn sighs. He gets up, goes to the door, and sticks his head out. “Sorry, Mama!” he calls down the stairs. “We’re almost done, I promise!”

“Oh no, it’s fine!” the woman calls back. “It’s just that Iemitsu sent him something. Is it okay if I come up?”

Reborn steps out and hastily closes the door behind him. He comes down the stairs before she can decide to go up. “No, please don’t. I don’t want to break his concentration,” he says smoothly.

“Oh, that’s fine then. Could you give this to him once he’s done?” She gives him a plain brown cardboard box, slightly larger than a book. The handwriting is Lal’s. Normally he would be suspicious of that, except Iemitsu’s Flame signature is all over the package. Probably something the man had meant to send before and forgotten about; Lal was always saving Iemitsu’s ass like that. CEDEF would fall apart without her, really.

“Sure. He should be done soon.” Hopefully. He didn’t want to have to explain to Iemitsu and Nono about _breaking_ Tsuna in their _first_ meeting together. Iemitsu he could handle, but Nono favored him, so if Iemitsu wanted a witch hunt…

He goes back upstairs. Tsuna looks up from the file and shoves it aside.

“This…this is a joke, right?”

Reborn sets the package next to the kid and sighs. “I wish it were. Unfortunately it isn’t.”

“They’re dead.” Tsuna’s voice is flat.

“Yes.”

“Murdered.”

“Yes.”

The teen takes a shaky breath. “I…” He shakes his head rapidly. “No. Not doing it.”

And there was that typical Sky bullheadedness. With circumstances as they are, Reborn would be more than happy to encourage that, but right now neither of them have a choice. Reborn steps over the file until he’s right in Tsuna’s face and grabs the kid’s collar. He eases the lid off his Flames—not a lot, just enough to make the kid _pay attention_ —and growls.

“Listen, kid, I don’t like this either. You’re civilian. I _hate_ dealing with civilians. But it’s not up to us. You were chosen for this, I was chosen to tutor you for it, neither of us are getting out of it, so suck. It. Up.” The teen stares at him, wide-eyed and frozen. “Good.” Reborn lets go of his collar. “Your mother said the package is for you. Your father sent it.” He bounces back to the other end of the bed, packing the file away. They could go over this later, when Tsuna didn’t look like he would fall apart.

Should have left the Heir File until later.

He’s _not cut out for this_.

*******

* * *

 

*******

He thinks it’s a joke as he reads through the file. It has to be. Of course it is. The file is full of papers that are filled with line after line of black; redacted material. He remembers seeing that on a TV show. And there’s no pictures, and don’t these files always have pictures? Even with the redacted material, though, Tsuna can tell it’s bad. He can read between the lines, so to speak. Descriptions of how the bodies were found have been blacked out, but that tells him as much as reading the description would have.  
Actually, he thinks it’s worse. It’s left entirely up to his imagination, and with the stuff he regularly reads, he’s got plenty of fuel.

It has to be a joke, because no one would ask a thirteen year old to do this. To go into a life where he could be murdered. What kind of person asks this of a thirteen year old?

 _Your father sent me_.

No.

No, he doesn’t believe it.

Distantly, he hears Reborn’s voice and ignores it. Because he’s stuck on what the kid said earlier at Iemitsu sending him. With this. He ignores when the kid leaves the room.

This is a joke.

Except then Reborn comes back and tells him no, it isn’t. It’s driven home what, exactly, is happening.

He’s _not cut out for this._

*******

* * *

 

*******

Tsuna stares at the package. The package his father sent.

He’s happy for the distraction, don’t get him wrong. Relieved, even, because his mind is spinning with all kinds of imagined details about how the three Vongola brothers died. He doesn’t know how to get himself to _stop_ thinking about it, but Reborn has so kindly given him a way.

He doesn’t open it right away, because he wants to figure out _why_ it was sent first. It’s something of a game he plays with himself. His father sends something, like a post card or a small trinket, and Tsuna is usually able to match it up to a date. His or his mother’s birthday, Christmas, Easter, something. They’re few and far between, and random ones without a date attached are even rarer.

But he can’t figure this one out. He frowns at the plain brown cardboard, the familiar-yet-not handwriting. He knows it isn’t his father’s, because his father actually writes his own postcard messages and it’s nothing like this, but he’s never met the person who actually writes the labels on the packages.

Finally, after a few minutes, he opens it. What the hell; he might as well do it. He uses his house key to cut through the tape because he doesn’t want to go downstairs for the scissors. He can’t face his mom right now.

The contents of the box make him freeze up and his heart ache. He feels the weight of Reborn’s gaze on him and wishes that he had opened this later, when he would be alone.  
It is spring, the beginning of the school year, and the first thing he sees in this package is a birthday card. A brightly colored card with “Happy 13th Birthday!” on the front.  
He glances at the postmark on the package itself, from last month.

His birthday was six months ago.

He snorts and opens the card anyway. A pop-up lion flings glitter and confetti over himself and his bed, making Reborn snicker. The inside of the card has a generic printed message. Nothing handwritten besides his father’s signature. Part of him is bitter that that’s apparently all his father had time to write, and another is happy he gets even that much.

He sets the card aside and shoves away the more conflicting emotions. He wants to see what else is in the package. Normally all he would get is a card, but apparently _six months late_ gets him an actual bribe. Excuse him, gift.

It’s a book. Either a fantasy book or some kind of fancy journal. _The Clow_ is written across the top in English, inside a golden banner. Below it is a picture of the head and torso of a lion, with two white wings sprouting from the shoulders. The lion sits behind a sun emblem, locked in place with chains. The whole thing is set on a scarlet cover. The cover has a lock, so he leans more towards it being a journal, but there’s no key.

He frowns and looks through the box. He runs his fingers through the glitter—the lock is small, it could have gotten mixed in…

Except there’s nothing.

“That’s weird,” Tsuna murmurs. How is he supposed to open it? Pick the lock? He traces it with the tip of his finger.

The lock clicks and opens.

He fumbles, almost dropping the book into the pile of glitter on the bed. He catches Reborn twitch out of the corner of his eye but ignores it in favor of focusing on the book. There’s a soft sound, almost like…like a whisper, like…the voice is familiar, almost like…

He flips the cover of the book open, expecting lined paper. Instead he gets a hollow filled with cards. They look like Tarot cards. The top one has a picture of a lady’s torso with two elegant wings crossed in front of her, her eyes closed, her arms crossed over her chest. He picks it up and flips it over. The back is the same shade of red as the book cover with a gold circle. The inside of the circle is filled in by a twelve-point star, centered with a sun emblem, and with a crescent moon to the upper left. Each corner is anchored by a star.

The whisper is stronger. It sounds almost feminine, but he still can’t make out what it’s saying.

He flips the card back over, frowning thoughtfully at the painted surface. There’s something printed across the bottom in English.

“What is it, Tsunayoshi?” Reborn asks idly. He picks up another card, hisses, and drops it. “It shocked me!”

“It didn’t shock me.” How weird. “You okay?” Reborn shoots him a flat look, and Tsuna raises his hands in submission.

“Why didn’t it shock you, though?” Reborn asks, nudging the dropped card with his foot.

“No clue.” Tsuna shrugs and looks at the card again. “They look like Tarot cards, but this isn’t one of them.”

“How do you know?”

“A Tarot deck doesn’t have a card for this one. It says ‘The Wind—’”

—the window is closed, but the room fills with a fierce wind.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's a wrap!
> 
> Here's the Cardcaptors/Katekyo Hitman Reborn crossover I mentioned in Make a Wish, Tsuna-kun. And here's all the warnings I could possibly think of to give you:
> 
> -Major AU. Seriously, it diverges immediately from canon and doesn't really go back. Thinks are going to be different. I'm not apologizing either, because I'm not just regurgitating two sets of canon and hoping they fuse; a lot of differences and divergences are done entirely on purpose.
> 
> -Trigger for bullying. Because seriously, I know it was played for comedy in KHR canon, but the level of bullying that goes on is disturbing. And this fic explores the affects that would have on someone, hopefully without making Tsuna too bitter and dark. I like that he has a sweet and generally accepting personality, so I'm trying to keep that, but he's going to have issues to work through.
> 
> -Not!Dame-Tsuna. I'm aiming for something more FUB-lite than canon. Tsuna tries. Really, he does. There are times when he gives up, like in this chapter, but he eventually tries again. Early on, it'll be due to Reborn and his family. Later, his Guardians/friends will also help with that.
> 
> -Family of Choice. Tsuna's got blood relations, but he also chooses his family. This is something you see in KHR canon, so I'm trying to portray it here since it seemed to be such a major theme.
> 
> -Iemitsu's A+ Parenting/trigger for neglect and child endangerment. Iemitsu does neglect his family, make no mistake. Sure, he tries, and I get he's the head of CEDEF and has a shit-ton of shit to do, but he could call/send cards more often, even if he can't visit in person. Not to mention that he essentially sacrifices Tsuna to the Vongola. Who puts up their thirteen year old, civilian kid as a potential heir to a mafia family of Vongola's caliber? Knowing it's going to attract assassins and hitmen and essentially put a target on their back?
> 
> -Nono's A+ Parenting/trigger for emotional neglect and abuse. Because really? Do you think Xanxus turned out that fucked up by himself? And it's not just the mafia lifestyle, because there were plenty of mafia kids who turned out less fucked up than Xanxus. (I won't say normal. It's the mafia.)
> 
> -Nana's A+ Parenting/trigger for emotional neglect. Nana is actually present in the house and is just as bad as Iemitsu in canon. She actually calls Tsuna Dame-Tsuna, which is the nickname his bullies gave him. She actually goes on a rant in the manga about Tsuna being a loser. I get she tries and she's essentially a single parent, but come on.
> 
> -Different Guardians. It's a very heavy AU, this is one of the things I'm changing.
> 
> -Flames as Magic. Because it's more magic to me than sci-fi. Hell, you had eight adults cursed into becoming babies, and that has nothing to do with science. And it makes more sense to treat it as magic in this AU, considering we also have magic in the form of the Clow Cards.
> 
> -Slowburn R27. Like, so slow it moves at a snail's pace. It definitely isn't the main focus of the story, which focuses more on family relationships and magical adventures, and it might even get scrapped altogether.
> 
> -Reborn is Human. Seriously, he's not some mythical god that can do no wrong, as evidenced by this chapter. He tries, makes the best of a bad situation, but he's a hitman and he's human and he's going to inevitably fuck up.
> 
> -Not too Familiar with Canon. I've read part of the manga as scanlations and I've read a ton of fanfics to try to get a feel for characters, but I really didn't want to wait any longer to post this. I'm actively seeking character studies because of this. I'm trying not to change characters too much, but, well...
> 
> -Language. Because we have a lot of teenagers and mafiosi. And I didn't feel like cleaning up my language. *shrugs*
> 
> -And probably a lot more not said, that I'll post warnings on later. If you don't like it, don't read it. If you decide to anyway, PLEASE leave a review to tell me what you think! I always appreciate feedback!


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